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H  Caravel  of  2)team8 

A  BOOK  OF  VERSE 

BY 
LILA  MUNRO  TAINTER 


BOSTON 

SHERMAN,  FRENCH  &  COMPANY 

1914 


Copyright,  1914 
Sherman,  French  &  Company 


TO 

MY  HUSBAND 

AND 

MY  MOTHER 


977001 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

The  poems  entitled  "  Young  Love  is  Dead," 
"  The  Captive,"  "  Sleep,"  were  first  published 
in  the  Smart  Set;  "  The  Undiscovered  Coun- 
try," in  the  International;  "  A  Sleighing  Song," 
"  Condemned,"  "  Departed  Years,"  "  Newport 
Harbor,"  "  My  Pearl,"  in  the  Providence  Jour- 
nal; "  Fields  of  Sleep,"  in  the  Washington 
Evening  Star;  "  Reapers,"  "  The  Necroman- 
cer," in  the  Boston  Transcript;  "  Eastertime," 
"  The  Cross  of  Rubidoux,"  "  Christ's  Mother," 
"Worship  of  the  Flowers,"  "O  Bird,  Swift 
Flying,"  in  the  Ave  Maria,  Notre  Dame,  Indi- 
ana ;  "  Bethlehem's  Babe,"  "  For  Success,"  in 
the  Los  Angeles  Times;  to  which  publications 
my  thanks  are  due  for  permission  to  reprint. 

LiLA    MUNRO    TaINTER 

San  Diego, 

California. 


FOREWORD 

O  ship  o'  dreams,  fashioned  from  foam  of  wavea, 
Bird  songs  and  whisperings  of  leafy  boughs, 
The  footfall  of  the  rain  upon  the  roof, 
The  grief  and  joy  of  man,  the  flower  of  dawn, 
The  tender  grace  of  twilight  on  the  sea; 
Molded  by  the  desire  of  the  heart. 
And  armored  in  a  strength  invincible. 
Made  in  the  furnace  of  the  soul's  white  flame, — 
Go  swiftly  over  seas  to  my  beloved. 
Bearing  within  thy  hold  a  precious  freight 
Of  memories'  fragrant  spices.     Fear  no  ill; 
The  pilot.  Love,  will  guide  thee  to  the  feet 
Of  her  who  made  our  earth  a  paradise. 


CONTENTS 
POEMS  OF  LOVE 

PAGE 

Young  Love  is  Dead 1 

Love,  the  Sorcerer 2 

Love's  Prisoner 3 

When  Birds  Sing  Low 4 

To  Eros 5 

Love's  First  Dream 7 

Where  Thou  Dost  Pass 8 

The  Debutante 9 

Once  More 10 

Forgive 12 

Oh,  Come  to  Me 13 

The  Captive       .      . 14 

Love's  Approach 15 

Sketches 16 

The  Tryst 18 

The  Artist 19 

POEMS  OF  FANCY 

Sleep 23 

The  Dower 24 

Ships 25 

The   Argonauts 26 

The  Quest 29 

Aspiration 31 

To  Arcady 32 

Departed  Years 33 

Fields  of  Sleep 34 


PAQE 

The  Rock-a-by  Ship 35 

When  Pan  Plays 37 

POEMS  OF  REVERY 

A  Christmas  Toast 41 

Retrospection 43 

The  Undiscovered  Country 44 

The  Dullard 45 

Reapers 46 

A  Question ,47 

For  Success 48 

Expectation 49 

The  Caravels 51 

POEMS  OF  NATURE 

A  Sleighing  Song 55 

Evening 56 

The  Necromancer 57 

Hours 59 

The  Surf  Dogs 61 

The  Seagulls 62 

Indian  Summer 63 

Persephone 64 

Regina 65 

The  Desert 67 

At  La  Jolla 69 

Newport  Harbor 70 

By  the  Pacific 71 

O  Bird,  Swift  Flying 72 

The  Return 78 


POEMS  OF  SORROW 

PAGE 

In  a  Garden 77 

Resignation 79 

My   Pearl 81 

At  Night 82 

In  Hospital  at  Manila 83 

Hope's  Messenger 85 

My  Song 86 

Good-bye,  Old  Year 87 

Finis 89 

Dreams 90 

Pass  On,  O  Death 91 

Turn  Down  His  Empty  Glass     ....  92 

POEMS  OF  TRAGEDY 

Anarchy 97 

Sisters 99 

Betrayed 101 

The  Wanton 103 

Rachel 104 

The  Jester 105 

Condemned 106 

Paying  the  Piper 107 

The  Land  of  Woe 108 

The  Open  Gate 109 

Vanquished Ill 

RELIGIOUS  POEMS 

The  Cross  of  Rubidoux 115 

The  Worship  of  the  Flowers     .      .      .      .117 


PAGE 

Easter  Time 118 

Christ's  Mother .      .119 

Bethlehem's  Babe 120 

I  Am  a  Wanderer 122 

When  Shepherds  Watched 123 

yuletide 125 

Cui   Bono 126 


POEMS  OF  LOVE 


YOUNG  LOVE  IS  DEAl).i  '{' 

Young  Love  is  dead,      -.'  / ^  '>  ' 
But  when  he  died  we  cannot  tell ; 
There  was  no  sound  of  passing  bell 

When  life  had  fled. 

We  did  not  know 
A  thing  so  fair  could  pass  away, 
That  lips  of  fire  could  turn  one  day 

To  lips  of  snow. 

In  dumb  despair 
We  gazed  on  him  we  had  caressed; 
His  hands  were  folded  on  his  breast 

As  if  in  prayer. 

Then  in  the  grave 
We  laid  our  Love  so  cold  and  still. 
We  could  not  weep ;  we  had  no  will 

Or  power  to  save. 

The  Spring  is  here 
With  smiling  face,  but  Love  has  fled; 
Where  last  year's  flowers  are  lying  dead. 

Go  seek  his  bier. 


[1] 


I.OVE,  THE  SORCERER 


Love  is  a  sorcerer  of  wondrous  power; 

He  holds  the  glass  of  time  within  his  hand, 
And,  lo,  for  one  ecstatic,  happy  hour 

The  sun  of  heart's  desire  at  his  command 
Floods  all  the  land  1 

Love  is  the  harbinger  of  bitter  pain, 

Of  vain  regret,  of  tears  and  wild  despair, — 

A  harvest,  garnered  'mid  the  winds  and  rain, 
Of  blighted  hopes  and  memories  once  fair. 
Of  Love  beware ! 

And  yet  whene'er  we  hear  his  thrilling  voice, — 
Whether    in    perfumed    Spring   we    list    his 
speech. 
Or   when   bird   choirs   of   Summer   sing,   "  Re- 
joice " — 
With  outstretched  arms  we  strive  his  arms  to 
reach, 
And  gifts  beseech  I 

Love,  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  all, 

Molds  even  the  changeless  to  his  own  behest. 

And  gives  to  those  who,  living,  miss  his  call. 
In  death  the  sacred  shelter  of  his  breast; 
And  this  is  best! 


[2] 


LOVE'S  PRISONER 

Thou  art  Love's  prisoner  who  once  roamed  free 

And   mocked  his   chains ; 
Henceforward  at  his  pleasure  thou  shalt  be 

As  he  ordains. 

Thy  bosom  white  is  his,  thy  dark  eyes'  fire; 

Thy  nectared  lips 
Are  his  alone  to  drain  at  his  desire 

In  honeyed  sips. 

He  marked  thee  for  his  own ;  and  by  his  art 

And  subtle  charms 
He  seized  and  prisoned  thee  within  his  heart, 

Bound  by  his  arms. 


[3] 


WHEN  BIRDS  SING  LOW 

RONDEAU 

When  birds  sing  low  in  green  retreat 
At  midnight   hour   their  love   songs   sweet, 
The  poppied  arms  of  Sleep  forsake 
For  mine,   Sweetheart.     Awake!     Awake! 
Oh,  let  me  not  in  vain  entreat 

When  birds  sing  low. 

Soon  o'er  the  hills  her  lord  to  greet 
Will  glide  the  Dawn  on  shining  feet: 

Haste,  from  thy  limbs  dreams'  fetters  shake 
When  birds  sing  low. 

The  night  with  mysteries  is  replete. 

And  for  love's  tryst  alone  is  meet; 

Then  come  to  me  ere  mom  doth  break. 
With  fragrant  lips  my  thirst  to  slake 
When  birds  sing  low. 


[4] 


TO  EROS 

O  FAIR  god  Eros,  on  this  summer  day 

Pause  in  thy  flight, 
And  'mid  the  fragrant  blossoms  let  us  stray 

Before  the  Night 
Shrouds  in  her  dusky  veil  the  saffron  light. 

The  tawny  bees  sing  low  the  while  they  poise 

O'er  each  sweet  lip, 
And  fan  the  ardor  of  their  coming  joys 

Before  they  sip, 
Then, —  into  waiting  nectared  cups  they  dip. 

List,  I  entreat  thee!     Lay  thy  weapons  by 

A  while,  and  rest 
Ere  thou  dost  wing  thy  course  adown  the  sky ; 

I  fain  would  test 
My  strength  'gainst  thine.     Come,  dream  upon 
my  breast  1 

Thou  canst  not  wound  me,  Eros ;  I  am  old, 

And  thou  must  keep 
Thine  arrows  for  hearts  not  grown  numb  and 
cold: 

An  ashen  heap 
Long  since  was  mine,  with  all  its  story  told. 


[5] 


—  Nay,   threat  me  not,   I   fear  no  more  thy 
charms ! 

—  But,  ah,  thy  breath, — 

Thy  soft  lips,  wake  again  the  old  alarms;  — 

—  Though  this  be  death, 

'Tis  welcome  thus  to  meet  it  in  thine  arms. 


[6] 


LOVE'S  FIRST  DREAM 

When  yesterday 
Has  faded  in  the  far  horizon  dim, 
And  fair  to-morrow  o'er  the  mountain's  rim 

Peeps   arch  and  gay, 
Will  aught  remind  thee  of  our  old-time  bliss, 
The  rapture  of  the  first  ecstatic  kiss? 

Or   doth   stem   fate 
Decree  that  it  shall  be  recalled  no  more, 
As  footprints  made  upon  a  sandy  shore 

That   waves    obliterate; 
And  all  the  charm,  the  passion  and  sweet  pain 
Of  love's  first  message  never  come  again? 

It  cannot  be 
That    midst   the   joys    with   which   thy   life    is 

fraught. 
The  past  so  bitter-sweet  holds  not  a  thought, 

A  memory  of  me; 
That  I,  who  kindled  first  the  altar's  flame. 
Shall  have  nor  habitation  nor  a  name? 

Let   love's   first  dream 
Sometimes   glide  through  the   cloisters   of  thy 

heart, 
And  I  shall  know,  though  time  and  seas  may 
part; 
Nor  will  it  seem 
A  sin  to  have  been  loved,  though  at  the  shrine 
Another  hand  now  feeds  the  fire  divine. 
[7] 


WHERE  THOU  DOST  PASS 

Where  thou  dost  pass, 
The  chaliced  lily  fairer  grows, 
And  sweeter  breathes  the  fragrant  rose; 
The   whole  wide  world  in   beauty   blooms   and 
glows 

Where  thou  dost  pass. 

O  little  queen, 
O  dainty,  royal  lady  fair. 
Our  prisoner  wonderful  and  rare. 
Caught  on  the  wing,  trapped  in  a  moonbeam 
snare, 

O  little  queen. 

Wilt  thou  not  stay 
A  few  short  hours  thine  upward  flight, 
And  be  content  till  jewelled  night 
Dies   on   the  threshold  of  the  morning  bright 

Wilt  thou  not  stay? 

Thy  captor.  Love, 
Folds  thee  from  harms  upon  his  breast; 
Then   struggle  not,  but  quiet  rest, — 
A  timid  bird  safe  in  a  sheltered  nest; 

Thy  captor.  Love. 


[8] 


THE  DEBUTANTE 

She  comes,  a  vision  to  enchant, — 
Dark,  tangled  lashes  veil  her  eyes. 
Filled  with   a   sweet,   demure   surprise; 

A  rosebud  fair,  a  debutante. 

The  chestnut  rings  anear  her  cheek 
Touch  lovingly  the  tinted  snows; 
Chased  by  her  smile  a  dimple  goes 

About   her  mouth  at   hide-and-seek. 

Ah,  could  I  feel  that  little  hand 

With  rose-tipped  fingers  clasp  mine  own, 
The  proudest  monarch  on  his  throne 

Would  rank  as  beggar  in  the  land. 

Fair  maid,  to  me  sweet  succor  give. 
Nor  let  my  heart  unheeded  lie 
Beneath  thy  light  feet  tripping  by, 

But  heal  my  wounds  and  bid  me  live. 


[9] 


ONCE  MORE 

When  the  Summer  comes  once  more, 
O  my  love, 

Shall  I  see  you  as  of  yore, 

O  my  love ; 

With  heaven's  radiance  shining  through 

Overarching  skies   of  blue 

In  a  benison  on  you, 

O  my  love? 

Will  you  smile  on  me  again. 

Heart  of  mine, 

And  forgive  the  tears  and  pain, 

Heart  of  mine. 

And  forget  doubt's  drifting  snows 

In  the  glory  of  the  rose. 

While  love's  rapture  burns  and  glows. 
Heart  of  mine? 

Hasten  to  mine  empty  arms. 

My  beloved; 

I  will  shelter  you  from  harms. 

My  beloved. 

You  shall  lie  upon  my  breast 

In  an  ecstasy  of  rest. 

Safe  as  bird  within  its  nest. 

My  beloved. 


[10] 


In  that  distant  country  fair, 

O  mine  own, 
You  must  know  my  wild  despair, 

O  mine  own; 
And  from  out  eternity, 
By  love's  wondrous  potency. 
You  will  come  from  God  to  me, 

O  mine  own! 


[11] 


FORGIVE 

Amid  the  shadows  dark 

That  close  enfold, 
Above   the   ruins    stark 
Of  hopes   grown   cold, 
Send  but  one  token,  dear,  that  I  may  live; 
Forgive. 

Beyond   the  mountain   ridge 

So   darkly   blue, 
Across  yon  starry  bridge 
My  prayers  pursue 
Who  couldst  no  boon  refuse  when  thou  didst 
live; 

Forgive. 

By  pangs  of  vain  remorse, 

By  anguished  cry. 
By   haunted   orbs   whose   source 
Of  tears  is  dry. 
Remember  not  the  old-time  perfidy;  that  I  may 
live. 

Forgive. 

Adown  the  black  abyss 
Whence  thee  I  call. 
From  thine  estate  of  bliss 
Let   pardon   fall; 
Whisper  to  me  one  word  that  I  may  live; 
Forgive. 

[18] 


OH,  COME  TO  ME 
RONDEL 

Oh,   come   to   me;   the   twilight   shadows   grey, 
Veil  with  their  dusky  wings  the  golden  west, 

Where  slowly  fades  the  flower  of  the  day. 
Its    petals   floating   on   the   ocean's   breast. 

While  birds  sing  sweet  good-night  in  bowered 
nest 

Amid  the  trees  whose  branches  swing  and  sway. 

Oh,  come  to  me ;  the  twilight  shadows  grey. 
Veil  with  their  dusky  wings  the  golden  west. 

Thy  lips  are  sweet  as  blossoms  of  the  May, 
Thy    bosom    white    as    snow    on    mountain's 
crest. 

Across  the  fields  of  evening  take  thy  way. 

And  with  thy  gentle  voice  soothe  my  unrest; 

Oh,  come  to  me;  the  evening  shadows  grey. 
Veil  with  their  dusky  wings  the  golden  west. 


[13] 


THE  CAPTIVE 

Why   does   Love   weave    such   fetters    for   my 
feet; 
O  heart's  delight,  I  should  be  far  away; 
Hark,  through  the  casement  sounds  the  world's 
heart-beat, 
The  echo  of  its  fray. 

Open  thy  gates  and  set  me  free  again; 

Thy   tangling  lashes  hold  me  captive   still; 
And  thus  I  kneel,  filled  with  delicious  pain, 

A  suppliant  at  thy  will. 

The  blossom  of  thy   mouth   invites   approach, 
Its  garnered  sweetness  I  would  fain  surprise, 

But  should  I  on  its  petals  fair  encroach, 
Wouldst  slay  me  with  thine  eyes? 

Have  pity,  beauteous  lady;  bid  me  live; 

Grant  me  some  hope  ere  I  from  thee  depart; 
If  guerdon  for  sweet  duress  I  must  give, 

Maiden,  I  leave  my  heart. 


[14] 


LOVE'S  APPROACH 

Mine   own,  my  dear, 
Love  has  set  forth  upon  his  gentle  quest; 
Open  thy  portals  for  the  coming  guest 

Without  a  fear. 

Swift  from  the  skies. 
O'er  hill  and  stream  he  straightway  wings  his 

flight. 
His  path  illumined  ever  by  the  light 

Within  thine  eyes. 

Thy  bosom's  shrine 
Shall  be  to  him  a  sanctuary  sweet; 
After  the  din  and  turmoil  of  the  street. 

Refuge  divine. 

True  love  ne'er  tires 
Seeking  his  own ;  as  magnet  unto  steel 
He  flies,  and  shall  abide  through  woe  or  weal, — 

E'en   through   sin's  fires. 

He  asks  not  gain 
Of  his  beloved,  nor  if  his  gift  exceed; 
He  Cometh  to  fulfill  each  wish  and  need, 

And  soothe  all  pain. 

From   Heaven   above 
He  brings  the  crown  of  all  the  joys  to  be. 
Conqueror  of  death,  heir  of  eternity, 

Immortal  Love. 
[15] 


SKETCHES 


The  God  of  Day  comes  forth  with  his  young 
bride  — 

Fair  Morn,  enshrouded  in  her  silvery  mists ; 
With   eager  hand  he   sweeps  her  veil   aside, 

And  blushing  yields  she  whatso'er  he  lists. 
The  waterfall  leaps  down  from  craggy  lair, 
And  with  its   rainbow  glories  decks  her  hair. 

The  swallows  dart  from  hidden  nests,  and  fly 
In  myriads  over  meadow,  barn  and  croft ; 

Far,  far  above  the  tallest  trcetops  high, 
The  message  of  the  morning  bear  aloft; 

The  river  sings  betwixt  its  sedgy  banks, 

And  reeds  and  grasses  wave  in  serried  ranks. 

II 

The  ardent  Sun  above  Earth's  fragrant  breast 
Broods  with  his  wide-spread  wings  of  flame 
a-glow ; 

And  golden  plumage,  falling  from  his  crest, 
Quivers  and  gleams  upon  the  tide  below. 

A  languorous  peace  pervades,  begot  from  this 

Embrace  of  Earth  and  Sun  in  cloud  abyss. 

The  insects'  drowsy  drone  the  only  sound 
That  breaks  the  quiet  of  the  noontide  grace, 
[16] 


The  bees  within  the  lily's  cup  have  found 
Sweet  recompense  of  labor  for  a  space; 
The  dusky  shades  withdraw  to  forest  maze, 
Nor  stirring  leaf  their  ambush  safe  betrays. 

Ill 

Night    o'er   her    head    a    star-gemmed   wimple 
flings, 

And  swiftly  glides  adown  the  darkening  skies ; 
Between  her  palms  the  lantern  moon  she  swings 

As  to  the  trysting-place  of  Love  she  hies ; 
Glowing  with  ardor,  filled  with  sweet  alarms, 
Eager  she  seeks  the  rapture  of  his  arms. 

The  wandering  wind,  espying  her  in  flight. 

With  view  halloo,  upon  the  chase  has  sped, 
But  ere  Dawn's   archers  with  their  shafts   of 

light 

Rise  to  the  hunt,  the  wanton  queen  has  fled; 
Yet  little  zephyrs   whispering,   disclose 
The  secret  amour  to  the  blushing  rose. 


[17] 


THE  TRYST 

The  perfume  of  roses  fills  the  air; 

The  lily  in  green  coif,  tall  and  fair, 
Amid  the  shadows  that  grow  apace. 
Stands  like  a  nun  with  pure,  pale  face. 

The  herald  stars  with  their  torches  bright 
Proclaim  in  the  skies  the  coming  Night; 
Her  dusky  mantle  is  sweeping  chill 
O'er  swaying  trees  and  on  distant  hill. 

The  firefly  lights  up  his  lantern  small; 
The  mournful  voices  of  crickets  call ; 

The  wings  of  the  winds  bring  odors  sweet; 

But  never  sound  of  thy  coming  feet. 

A  dreaming  bird  calls  from  hidden  nest ; 

The  moon  sails  over  the  mountain's  crest; 
The  brown  owl  summons  his  mate  unseen 
Far  in  the  depths  of  the  woodland  green. 

Why  dost  thou  tarry?     The  hours  wane. 

Must  Love's  fond  pleading  be  made  in  vain  ? 
My  lips  are  thirsting  for  thy  lips  dear, 
—  Moon  of  delight, —  she  is  here,  she  is 
here. 


[18] 


THE  ARTIST 

Thou  art  a  daughter  of  the  house  of  song, 
Whose  golden  corridors,  the  hours  long, 
Are  echoing 
With  unborn  harmonies  that  dulcet  ring. 

Within  thy  lovely  bosom,  'neath  its  snows, 
A  spark  from  God's  own  altar  bums  and  glows ; 
Its  flame  divine 
Draws  all  the  ravished  world  and  makes  it 
thine. 

Such   rapture  does   thy   wondrous  music  wake 
That  souls  in  ecstasy  their  bonds  would  break, 
And,   from   earth   free, 
Soar  up  to  heaven  on  wings  of  melody. 


[19] 


POEMS  OF  FANCY 


SLEEP 

RONDEL 

Sleep    wanders    slowly    down    night's    golden 
stair, 

Wearing  a  dream-flower  on  her  snowy  breast. 
In   rippling  splendor  flows   her  unbound  hair, 

Her  eyes   in   heavenly   benediction  rest 

Upon  the  unquiet  world  and  it  is  blest. 
Repose  profound  attends  all  nature  where 
Sleep  wanders  slowly  down  night's  golden  stair, 

Wearing  a  dream-flower  on  her  snowy  breast. 

Peace  enters  weary  hearts,  abiding  there 

For  a  brief  space,  and  at  her  sweet  behest, 

Tears  flow  no  more,  forgotten  is  despair. 
As,  with  hushed  footfall,  on  her  gentle  quest, 

Sleep  wanders  slowly  down  night's  golden  stair. 


[23] 


THE  DOWER 

Hidden  'mid  interlacing  vines  of  green 

That  o'er  the  rough  stone  boulders  climb  and 
cling, 

There  is  a  little  gate  almost  unseen, 

And  birds  about  its  portals  nest  and  sing. 

A  tiny  gate,  but  broad  and  wondrous  fair 

The  landscape  that  beyond  it  stretches  wide. 
With  flowering  fields   whose  perfume  fills   the 
air. 
And    shady    groves    where    woodland   things 
abide. 

Dryads  from  every  tree  and  shrub  invite 
To  dalliance  in  shady,  cool  retreat. 

And  humming  birds  in  every  bloom  alight, 
Nor  know  at  last  which  sip  has  been  most 
sweet. 

Spirit  of  beauty,  wonderful  thy  dower; 

Without  such  gift  how  barren  life  would  be! 
The  miracle  of  bush  and  tree  and  flower 

Thou  givest  those  who  love  thee,  eyes  to  see. 


[24] 


SHIPS 

Out  of  the  shadows  grey 

That  hang  in  misty  veil, 

A  little  fleet  sets  sail 
From  port  of  Yesterday. 

With   white  wings    to   the   breeze, 
Their  high  prows  spurn  the  foam, 
And  swiftly  onward  come 

To  bring  back  memories. 

From  far-ofF  southern  skies 
Where   sun-kissed   rivers   flow ; 
From   northland,   white   with   snow, 

Whence   cloud-capped   peaks   arise; 

Into  the  Present  glide 

The  phantom  ships  of  Yore, 
Sweep  into  port  once  more, 

And  safe  at  anchor  ride. 

And  when  the  sun  sinks  low, 
Strange  music  ebbs  and  swells 
Like  chime  of  elfin  bells, — 

The  songs  of  Long  Ago. 


[26] 


THE  ARGONAUTS 

We  are  sailing,  we  are  sailing,  and  our  quest 

shall  never  cease 
Till    in    Hesperidean    gardens    we    behold    the 

golden  fleece. 
Passing  glimpses  of  its  splendor  seemed  to  reach 

us  in  the  morn 
When  above  the  waste  of  waters  came  the  rosy 

day  new-born, 
But,  alas,  no  land  was  lying,  green  and  lovely, 

on  our  lee. 
And  as  far  as  eye  could  follow  stretched  the 

restless,  moaning  sea. 
We  are  sailing,  we  are  sailing,  beyond  any 

mortal  hailing. 
Till  we  see  on  far  horizon  those  fair  islands 

of  delight. 

When  the  golden  flower  of  heaven  opened  wide 
to  glorify 

The  tree  of  night  whose  branches  stretched 
across  the  arching  sky. 

And  the  silver  stars  were  blossoming  in  myriads 
on  each  bough. 

We  thought  our  quest  was  ended  and  our  guer- 
don given  now. 

Oh,  the  agony  of  waiting ;  oh,  the  hope  deferred 
so  long, 

[26] 


That  may  only  voice  its  yearning  in  the  meas- 
ure of  a  song. 
We   are   sailing,   we   are   sailing. 

Eyes  once  keen  are  dulled  with  gazing  on  the 
far-off  misty  rim 

For  a  glimpse  of  that  fair  kingdom  in  the  off- 
ing, pale  and  dim; 

And  the  crew,  so  gay  and  fearless,  now  are 
greybeards  sad  and  old. 

With  their  courage  crushed  and  broken  and 
their  fiery  hearts   grown   cold; 

Joyous  hopes  and  aspirations,  all  have  faded 
till  they  seem 

Like  the  evanescent  phantoms  of  some  half-for- 
gotten dream. 
We  are  sailing,  we  are  sailing. 

We  have  journeyed  long  and  widely,  and  our 
ship  in  port  would  be; 

She  is  heavy  with  the  trailing  weeds  of  many 
an  unknown  sea; 

Every  sail  is  brown  and  tattered;  all  her  tim- 
bers leaking  sore. 

She  has  buffeted  the  typhoon,  heard  the  sirens 
on  the  shore ; 

Bare  her  deck  and  swept  by  surges;  guiding 
helm  unshipped  and  gone; 

She  is  but  a  wreck  dismantled  and  the  treasure 
still  unwon. 


We  are  sailing,  we  are  sailing,  beyond  any 

mortal  hailing; 
Oh,  to  see  on  the  horizon  those  fair  islands 

of  delight  1 

To  the  eastward  or  the  westward  is  the  king- 
dom that  we  seek? 

Not  one  ship  has  ever  reached  it  of  the  many 
we  bespeak; 

But  we  know  beyond  all  doubting,  by  our  an- 
guish of  desire. 

By  the  unrest  that  consumes  us  with  the  tor- 
ment of  its  fire, 

That  the  agony  of  loving  and  the  heartbreaks 
were  not  vain. 

And  that   in   the  port   we're   seeking  there   is 
surcease  for  our  pain. 
We  are  sailing,  we  are  sailing,  beyond  any 

mortal  hailing, 
Back  to  angel  arms  that  clasped  us  long  ago, 
so  long  ago. 


[88] 


THE  QUEST 

We've  been  searching  for  a  lifetime, 

Everywhere, 
For  a  mystic  hidden  country  passing  fair, 
Where  our  bright  dream  castles  stand 
In  a  cloudless  summer  land 
And  countless  blossoms  perfume  all  the  air. 

Sometimes  when  the  sun  was  sinking 

In  the  west, 
And  each  sleepy  bird  was  brooding  on  its  nest. 
We  have  seen  a  glory  gleaming 
Brighter  far  than  earthly  seeming. 
And  we   thought  to   gain  our  haven   and   our 
quest. 

Music   sweet   as  ever  heard  from 

Angel  choir. 
Kindled  in  the  yearning  heart  supreme  desire. 
Till  the  soul  in  ecstasy 
From  earth  trammels  would  be  free. 
Burning  in  its  prison  with  divinest  fire. 

We  could  almost  view  our  wondrous 

Castles  white. 
With  their  starry  casements  glowing  all  alight, 
Hear  the  bells  within  the  towers 
Mark  the  passing  of  the  hours. 
Then  —  betwixt   us    fell   the   blackness    of   the 
night. 

[29] 


Was  it  but  day's  dying  embers 

On  the  sky, 
And    the   moaning   winds    among   the   treetops 

high, 
Blending  woodland  whispers  low 
With    the    river's    rhythmic   flow, — 
For  we're  wandering  still  and  searching,  you 

and  I? 

But  I'm  weary,  oh,  so  weary 

Of  the  dark  I 
And  upon  my  spirit  pain  has  left  its  mark. 
In  life's  game  of  "  give  and  take  " 
Oft  the  stoutest  heart  will  break 
If  hope  lies  within  the  bosom  cold  and  stark ! 

When   across   death's   black   abyss 
Heaven's   glory   streams. 
Lighting  up   its   fearsome  depths   with  golden 

gleams. 
Shall  we  see  before  us  rise, 
Silhouetted  'gainst  the  skies, 
The  elusive,  fairy  castles  of  our  dreams? 


[30] 


ASPIRATION 

I  PINE  for  fields  Elysian,  for  streams 
Sparkling  and   fair  beyond   Earth's  wildest 
dreams, 
Upon  whose  banks  I  fain  would  lie  at  ease, 
Mine  ears  attuned  to  wondrous  melodies ; 
And  lips  now  sternly  locked  in  silence  chill, 
With  thoughts  unchained  would  make  the  whole 
earth  thrill. 

My  soul  is  fainting  for  the  viands  rare 
On  which  the  gods  are  daily  wont  to  fare; 
Some  favored  eat  thereof,  nor  are  denied, 
While  I,  an-hungered,  gazing  stand  outside. 

Give  me  the  wine  of  song,  that  I  may  drain 
The  golden  cup  and  never  thirst  again ; 
The  food  ambrosial  let  me  taste,  and  feel 
Divine  afflatus  through  my  senses  steal. 
Life  lacking  this  is  but  a  beggar's  meed; 
Granted,  a  banquet  fit  for  royal  need. 

If  but  the  lees  my  portion  be  designed. 
If  only  crumbs  from  Zeus'  feast  I  find. 

Though  Death  preside,  the  gain  would  still  be 
mine. 

If  on  Olympian  crusts  I  once  might  dine. 


[31] 


TO  ARCADY 

With  joyous  hearts  and  laughter  gay 
We  wander  on  the  livelong  day ; 

Sometimes  the  road  is  fair  with  flowers, 
Sometimes  the  rain-cloud  glooms  and  lowers, 
But  we  are  young,  and  merrily 
We  dance  along  to  Arcady. 

We  lie  beside  the  hedge  at  night ; 
Above  us  stars  gleam  large  and  bright. 
What  matters  hunger,  rags  or  cold. 
When  ours  the  world  to  have  and  hold? 
And  so,  with  blithe  hearts,  merrily 
We  journey  on  to  Arcady. 

Then  —  blinding  tears ;  yet  must  we  on,    i 
Though  strength  is  spent  and  bays  unwon: 
The  last  rose  tint  fades  from  the  west; 
Pan's  pipes  are  stilled;  we  fain  would  rest; 
For  now  we  know  'twas  fantasy, — 
Our  dream  of  youth,  our  Arcady. 


[88] 


DEPARTED  YEARS 

Return,  departed  years,  return  once  more; 

In  happy  dreams  I  see  ye  still,  and  hear 

The  music  of  your  soft-voiced  melody. 

Its  subtle  spell  pervades  the  solitude 

Of  gloomy  night  until  I  live  again, 

But  waking  weep  to  find  it  but  a  dream. 

The  golden   days   of  youth  come  back  to  me, 

Joys  long  since  passed  away  and  hopes  grown 

cold ; 
Loved  faces,  hidden  by  the  flower  starred  turf, 
Smile  fondly  on  me  with  their  old-time  charm, 
And  all  my  soul  is  steeped  in  sweet  repose. 
O  happy  dreams,  O  bitter  wakening! 
Would  I  might  wake  no  more,  but  quiet  sleep, 
Lulled  on  the  bosom  of  the  happy  Past, 
Hearing  her  low  voice  murmur  in  my  ear, 
While  memory's  bell  should  ring  the  Angelus 
That  tells  the  sun  of  life  has  sunk  to  rest. 


[331 


FIELDS  OF  SLEEP 

Know'st    thou   the   wide,   mysterious   fields    of 
sleep, 
Whose  velvet  green  sward  sparkles  into  rills, 
Where  fair  dream  flowers   ope  on   every   side. 

Their  petals  written  o'er  in  mystic  signs ; 
Where  bright  winged  fancies  float  from  bloom 
to  bloom. 
Sipping  the  treasured  honey  as  they  fly? 
From    far-off^    hills,    whereon    browse    peaceful 
flocks, 
The    plaintive    note    of    shepherd's    pipe    is 
heard. 
While  sob  of  waves  from  unseen  mystic  shores 
Whispers   the  tired  heart  to  peaceful   rest, 
And    over    flower    and    field    and    shimmering 
stream 
Trail  silver  banners  of  the  fair-faced  moon. 
O  happy  kingdom  where  such  joys  abide! 
O    fields    divine,    strewn    o'er   with   blossoms 
rare! 
Some  time,  returning  not,  we  reach  thy  verge, 
And  lo,  the  ocean  of  eternity! 


[34] 


THE  ROCK-A-BY  SHIP 

The  rock-a-by  ship  is  ready  for  sea, 

Her    anchor    is    weighed    and   her    sails    un- 
furled ; 
She  is  only  waiting  for  you  and  for  me 

To   sail  away  o'er  the  edge  of  the  world: 
Hark,   to   the   sailors'   cheery   cry ! 
(Lullaby,  haby,  lullaby!) 

Who  sets   sail  in  the  rock-a-by  ship? 

All   aboard!     All  aboard!     Off  we   sweep! 
Over  the  billows  we  rise  and  dip. 

Bound  for  the  wondrous  ocean  of  sleep!    . 
Under  our  keel  the  foam  leaps  high. 
(Lullaby,  darling,  lullaby!) 

The  ocean  of  sleep  lies  far  away, 

With   fair  dream   islands   upon   its  breast, 
We  tarry  awhile,  but  may  not  stay 

Until  we  come  forever  to  rest. 
See  the  islands  against  the  sky ! 

(Lullaby,  sweetheart,  lullaby!) 

Angel  children  with  loving  smile 

Joyfully   crowd   the   wave-wet   strand, 

Darlings  we  cherished  on  earth  a  while, 

Gathered  to  welcome  the  coming  band. 

Arms  outstretch  as  the  ship  draws  nigh. 

(Lullaby,  precious,  lullaby!) 

[35] 


Song  birds  wing  through  the  perfumed  air, 
Flowers  bloom   that  will  never  die, 

For,  opening  painted  petals  fair, 

Lo,  each  one  soars  to  the  cloudless  sky, 

A  radiant,  beautiful  butterfly! 

{Lvllahy,  dearest,  lullaby!) 


[86] 


WHEN  PAN  PLAYS 

Through   the   fragrant   air   of   springtime 

Far  a-field  steals  a  refrain, 
Waking  in  the  soul  a  yearning 

That  is  poignant  unto  pain; 
Piercing,   silvery   and   elusive. 

As  it  threads  through  nature's  theme, 
And  we  know  beyond  a  doubting 

Pan  is  playing  by  the  stream. 

Pan,   the  sylvan   god   alluring. 

Crowned  with  garlands   of  the  vine. 
With  his  magic  pipes  whose  cadence 

Is  half-human,  half-divine. 
Binding  with  his  chords  melodious 

All  the  flowers  in  life's  scheme 
Till  the  birds  go  mad  with  singing, 

"  Pan  is  playing  by  the  stream." 

Sweet  as  touch  of  lips  forbidden 

Upon  lips  that  fain  would  kiss. 
Rapturous  as  realization 

Of  a  long-retarded  bliss. 
Thrilling  with  the  ecstatic  anguish 

Of  love,  sovereign,  supreme. 
Rises  the  impassioned  measure  — 

Pan  is  playing  by  the  stream. 


[87] 


As  the  feeble  footsteps  falter, 

And  the  glamour  dies  away, 
And  the  lengthening  twilight  shadows 

Mark  the  closing  of  the  day. 
Faint  as  memories  of  Summer 

In  the  Winter's  icy  dream. 
Is  the  echo  of  the  music 

Pan  was  playing  by  the  stream. 


[88] 


POEMS  OF  REVERY 


A  CHRISTMAS  TOAST 

'Tis  Christmas  time.     Upon  the  hills  afar 
In  Palestine  so  many  years  ago, 

The  shepherds  guarding  sheep  beheld  a  star 
That  led  them  to  a  manger  cradle  low. 

'Tis  Christmas  time.     As  far  as  eye  can  reach 
The  broad  Pacific  pulses  deep  and  slow, 

And  white-winged  sea  gulls,  with  their  strident 
screech, 
Dive  from  the  blue  above  to  blue  below. 

'Tis  Christmas  time.     The  tall  poinsettias  rise 
In  royal  panoply  of  crimson  blooms ; 

Against  the  dazzling  tint  of  southern  skies. 
Cocoas  plumosa  wave  their  graceful  plumes. 

'Tis  Christmas  time.     The  snow  lies  wide  and 
white 
On  the  Atlantic  coast;  an  icy  sheet 
Covers  the  streams,  but  tapers  are  alight. 
And  round  the  tree  move  children's  dancing 
feet. 

'Tis  Christmas  time.  For  some  the  world  is 
young; 

Life's  bright  entrancing  tale  is  still  untold; 
For  some  the  lights  are  out;  the  song  is  sung; 

The  shadows  gather,  and  the  world  is  old. 


[41] 


'Tis  Christmas  time  —  throughout  the  southern 
lands, 
And  'mid  the  drifting  snows,  'tis  Christmas 
time; 
Across    the    mountain    peaks    we    stretch    our 
hands. 
And    clasp    and    drink    to    friends    in    every 
clime. 


[42] 


RETROSPECTION 

If  in  the  land  where  loved  ones  congregate 
Is  known  the  misery  of  those  who  wait 

Upon  the  hither  side  of  death's  dark  stream, 
Beset  by  grisly  terrors  of  life's  dream, 
Perchance   joy   may   be   marred   in    those 

bright   spheres. 
When  angel  eyes  are  dimmed  by  pitying 
tears. 


[43] 


THE  UNDISCOVERED  COUNTRY 

Where  does  it  lie,  this  country  of  our  yearn- 
ing? 
Not     eastward,     where    mom's     altar    fires 
gleam 
And  orisons  from  happy  bird  throats  stream ; 
Nor  where  the  palms,  amid  the  desert  burn- 
ing, 
Show  blessed  oases  to  the  traveller  turning; 
Nor  e'en  where  snowy  hands   of  mountains 
seem 
To    pluck    the    stars,    the    while    they    lonely 
dream 
In  solitude  sublime,  life's  plan  discerning. 

'Tis  here  about  us  where  we  grope  and  stray 
And  wander  with  unseeing  eyes  afar, 

We  brush  the  fair  white  wings  of  angel  band, 
And  never  know,  until  at  last  some  day 

We  fall  on  death,  whose  kindly  hands  unbar 
Our    senses    locked,    and,    lo,    the    promised 
land! 


[44] 


THE  DULLARD 

Master,  I  pray,  turn  down  the  lettered  page; 

Hopeless  the  task  I  find,  nor  have  I  guessed 

The  hidden  meaning  of  mj  fruitless  quest. 
Nor  what  these  mystic  symbols  would  presage; 
Let  me  go  hence,  my  anguish  to  assuage. 

Time  was  I  conned  the  script  with  joyous 
zest, 

Now  tear-blind  eyes  yearn  for  eternal  rest; 
Free  me,  unworthy  of  my  heritage. 

Others  shall  follow,  filled  with  purpose  strong, 
To  whom  will  be  as  naught  the  grief  and  pain 

That  I  have  suffered;  scanning  swift  along 
The  lines,  thy  message  shall  not  be  in  vain. 

But  I,  alas,  am  not  of  that  blessed  throng, 
And  from  thy  courts  an  exile  must  remain. 


[45] 


REAPERS 

A  UTTLE  time  to  sow,  and  then  the  reaping; 

The  harvest  ours  alone,  for  joy  or  pain. 
We  may  but  gather  thistles  with  wild  weeping. 

Or  pluck  from  fields  aglow  with  golden  grain. 

Some  work  on  uplands  where  the  sun  is  shining ; 

In  valleys  some,  where  grisly  shadows  lie: 
The  wherefor  is  beyond  our  poor  divining, 

But  we  shall  learn  the  secret  by  and  by. 


[46] 


A  QUESTION 

Each    spirit   unaccompanied  must  tread 

The  path  of  life  unto  the  exit  gate ; 
Alone  we  came,  alone  our  steps  are  sped 

Through  storm  and  sunshine  to  an  unknown 
fate. 
But  when  the  march  is  ended  and  we  rest, 

With  all  conjecture  banished  from  the  brain, 
Will  there  be  found  the  purpose  of  our  quest, 

Solution  of  life's  anguish  and  its  pain? 


[47] 


FOR  SUCCESS 

"  Perhaps   it  was  well  to  dissemble  your  love, 
But  why  did  you  kick  me  down  stairs." 

Kemble. 

Would  you  know  the  best  way  to  get  into  the 

swim, 
Although  it  should  be  on  the  outermost  rim? 
Bend  your  knee  to   the  rich;  to  the  great 

lend  your  ear; 
But  the  plaint  of  the  poor  neither  notice  nor 
hear. 
Pluck  your  heart  out  and  throw  to  the  dogg 

for  their  food; 
You'll  need  it  no  more  in  a  circle  so  good. 
Turn    your   back    on    old    friends    who    ar^ 

threadbare  and  torn ; 
Deny  aged  parents  old-fashioned,  toil-worn* 
Lie  and  cheat;  lick  men's  boots,  and  do  all  a 

fool  dares ;  — 
And   return   undisturbed  when   they   kick   you 
down  stairs. 


[48] 


EXPECTATION 

I've  had  happy  dreams  of  you 

Every  hour, 
Since  the  moment  that  I  knew, 

O  my  flower ! 
God  would  send  to  me  some  day. 
From  his  garden  far  away, 
A  fair  bud  to  ope  and  blossom  in  my  bower. 

When  the  sunset  glory  dies 

In  the  west. 
As  a  bird  on  swift  wings  flies 

To  its  nest, 
I  can  see  your  sinless  soul 
Fluttering  onward  to  its  goal 
In  the  shelter  of  my  heart  to  lie  at  rest! 

Let  your  journey  here  be  fleet, 

Gift  divine! 
I  would  kiss  your  little  feet. 

Angel  mine! 
Feel   the   touch   of  helpless  hands, 
Stronger  far  than  iron  bands. 
With  love's  strength  around  my  fingers  clasp 
and  twine. 

Come  when  gates  of  dawn  swing  wide 

Far  above. 
Or  with  shadowy  eventide, 

Little  dove! 

[49] 


From  the  angels'  watchful  care, 
As  an  answer  to  my  prayer, 
Come  whene'er  you  will,  you  bring  the  crown 
of  love! 


[50] 


THE  CARAVELS 

In   the   facade  of  the   Wednesday   Club 

Whence  did  ye  come  and  whither  did  ye  sail, 

O  mimic  galleons  of  by-gone  days ; 
From  what  fair  land  enshrouded  by  the  haze 
Of  memory's  veil? 

Didst  carry  spices  from  the  Orient  fair, 

Or  gold  and  jewels  from  some  ravished  fane, 
Or  priestly  robes  that  odors  still  retain 
Of   incense   rare  ? 

Whose  was  the  hand  that  steered  ye  in  the  path 
Beneath  the  Southern  Cross  or  burning  sky ; 
Who  stood  at  bay  to  battle  and  defy 
The  cyclone's  wrath? 

The  brave  who  shipped  with  ye,  forgotten,  rest 
In  dreamless  slumber  countless  fathoms  deep, 
Reposing  peacefully  as  child  asleep 
On  mother's  breast. 

And  those  who  mourned  them,  too,  have  passed 
away. 
Their  bones   returned   to   dust  in   unknown 

graves ; 
Unheeded,   Summer  smiles   or  Winter  raves 
Above  the  clay. 

[51] 


O  Time,  thou  monarch,  naught  thy  power  bars ; 
The  great,  the  small,  beneath  thy  wheels  dost 

grind. 
Grant  at  the  end  our  record  we  may  find 
Beyond  the  stars. 


[52] 


POEMS  OF  NATURE 


A  SLEIGHING  SONG 

The  white  road  stretches  smooth  and  wide 
Beneath  the  glittering  winter  sky; 
Fast  as  the  wind,  oh,  let  us  fly, 

And  on  its  spreading  pinions  ride. 

O  bells,  sleigh  bells,  your  tinkling  notes 
Pierce  the  keen  air  with  wild  delight. 
And  not  a  sound  disturbs  the  night. 

Save  that  from  out  your  silver  throats. 

Within  the  sky  the  stars  are  lost. 
The  timid  moon  has  veiled  her  face 
Behind  a  cloud  of  filmy  lace, 

And  all  the  night  is  framed  in  frost. 


[55J 


EVENING 

In   silhouette  'gainst  the  darkening  skies 
A  sentinel  tree  that  sways  and  sighs ; 
Across  the  waves  from  the  moon  above 
Lies  the  golden  path  of  the  boy  god,  Love ; 
A  mocking-bird  to  his  mate  a-near 
Flutes  lowly,  tenderly,  softly  clear; 
In  gathering  shadows  far  below 
The  tramping  feet  of  the  surges  go; 
And  on  the  horizon  dim,  remote, 
Is  drifting  seaward  an  empty  boat. 


[56] 


THE  NECROMANCER 

From  field  and  grove  the  mournful  crickets  cry, 
Through     woodland     drear    the     wandering 
breezes   sigh, 

No  longer  joyous  carolling  is  heard, 
But  lonely  note  from  some  belated  bird. 

Alas,    for    flower-crowned    Summer,    queen    no 
more; 

Her  kingdom  is  usurped,  her  reign  is  o'er. 
And  of  her  dainty  court,  or  crown,  or  throne, 

Remain,  but  withered  blossoms  widely  strewn, 

A   mighty   necromancer  monarch  comes. 

He  lifts  his  wand ;  the  forest  wide  succumbs, 
Submissive  bending  'neath  his  fingers  chill. 

Whose  touch  transmutes  to  greater  beauty 
still. 

Orange   and  crimson,   yellow,   scarlet,   dun, — 
A  vesture  brave  the  wizard  puts  upon 

The  sturdy  sentinels,  whose  serried  line 
On  rugged  slopes  raise  oriflammes  divine. 

He  sweeps  his  hand  across  the  evening  skies; 

In   dazzling   splendor   constellations   rise; 
Orion  and  the  Pleiades  bum  bright; 

The  Great  Bear's  flaming  eyes  illume  the 
night. 

[57] 


When    morning   dawns    again    each   bush    and 
briar 

Is  blossoming  with  buds  of  silver  fire, 
And  over  earth's   fair  bosom  has  been   tossed 

A  gleaming  'broidered  mantle  of  hoar-frost. 


[58]      , 


HOURS 

Upon  the  rocky  peaks  the  first  dim  rose 

Of  dawning  opens  through  a  cloudy  veil, 
And  far  and  wide  within  night's  shadowy  close 

Bright  wings  of  starry  butterflies  grow  pale. 
The  sleeping  earth,  bedewed  by  misty  tears 

Of  fragrant  blooms  forsaken  by  the  bees. 
Awakes  to  joy  when  smiling  morn  appears 

With   flower   crowned   tresses   ruffled  by   the 
breeze. 

Lulled  by  the  magic  of  the  noontide  sway, 

Tangled  in  web  of  sunshine,  the  world  dreams ; 
To  secret  coverts  shadows  shrink  away. 

And    hushed    the    murmuring    voices    of    the 
streams. 
Green   glooms,  unstirred  by   song  or  rustling 
wing, 

The  stately  arcades  of  the  forest  rise ; 
And  in  the  mystic  blue  of  space  a-swing, 

Earth  clasped  about  with  golden  silence  lies. 

The  crescent  moon  above  in  splendor  floats, 
A  shining  galleon;  on  the  sea  below. 

Mirrored,  she  swings  with  fleet  of  starry  boats, 
Rocked  by  the  pulsing  waters  to  and  fro. 

The  gentle  evening  breezes  lightly  sweep 
From  leafy  branches  rustling  harmonies ; 

[59] 


Folded  in  painted  chalices,  flowers  keep 

The  secrets  of  the  night  with  odorous  sighs, 

And  phantom  sails  slip  by  and  swiftly  glide 
Adown  the  bosom  of  the  flowing  tide. 


[60] 


THE  SURF  DOGS 

The  surf  dogs  moan  and  whine  upon  the  beach, 

And  stealthily  upon  their  white  paws  glide 

Among  the  weedy  rocks  bared  by  the  tide. 

To  clutch  their  quarry  lying  out  of  reach, 

While  overhead  the  seagulls  soar  and  screech. 

Over  the  shining  sands  they  lightly  leap, 

Upon  a  wreck  they  crouch  and  madly  tear. 
The   while  their   snarling  cries   affright  the 
air; 
They  toss  and  surge  above  a  sodden  heap 
Of  that  o'er  which  the  women  soon  will  weep. 

The  Storm  King  drives  them  on,  his  hunting 
pack. 
Lashing  them  madly  o'er  the  surging  main, 
They  seize  their  prey  who  succor  call  in  vain ; 

Then  with  destruction  ever  in  their  track, 

Unto  the  sands  return  demoniac. 


[61] 


THE  SEAGULLS 

The  seagulls  float 
Above  the  ocean  till  their  piercing  eyes 
Discern  below  their  finny  quarry  rise 

From  depths   remote. 

Motionless,  still, 
They  hang  like  pictures  etched  upon  the  blue, 
Then    downward    from    the    azure    sky    shoot 
through 

With  voices  shrill. 

On  outspread  wing, 
Beating  the  waves  to  flashing  clouds  of  spray. 
They   seize  voraciously  their  fleeing  prey 

And  upward  spring. 

Upon  the  rocks, — 
The  teeth  of  the  inhospitable  seas, — 
Weary  and  gorged  with  capture,  perch  at  ease 

The   feathered  flocks. 


[62] 


INDIAN  SUMMER 

When  cold  winds  rave  and  snow  wreaths  whirl 
and  dance 
Amid  the  naked  branches  tossing  wild, 
Behold,   in   bright-hued   robes,   a   wandering 
child 
Speeds  swiftly  through  the  woods  whose  dark 

expanse 
Is  pierced  by  golden  sunlight's  quivering  lance. 
The  lonely  maid,  to  dreamful  sleep  beguiled 
By  soft  caress  of  summer  breezes  mild, 
Has  wakened  'neath  November's  chilling  glance ; 
Her  lovely  face,  for  smiles  and  laughter 
meant. 
Now  filled  with  deadly  fright  of  foes  un- 
seen, 
Is  backward  turned  with  each  quick, 
panting  breath. 
Until  the  huntsman  Winter  might  relent, 
As  swift  she  flies  to  gain  some  covert 
green. 
While  he  pursues  with  baying  hounds 
of  death. 


[63] 


PERSEPHONE 

Through     Winter's     stormy     prelude     softly 

creeps 
The  low,  mysterious  cadence  of  the  Spring, 
And  tenderly  upon  earth's  chilly  breast 
Fall  the  warm  kisses  of  the  genial  sun; 
The  erstwhile  nakedness  of  shrivelled  boughs 
Is  tasselled  thickly  o'er  with  buds  and  blooms. 
And  fluttering  wings  of  every  passing  breeze 
Scatter  broadcast  their  delicate  perfume. 
The  gladsome  birds  prepare  their  little  nests, 
Voicing  meanwhile  the  joyaunce  of  the  hour; 
And  Pan,  the  sylvan  god,  on  river  brink 
Draws  witching  music  from  his  magic  pipes. 
While  far  afield  Strephon  and  Chloris  dance. 
The  young,  the  gay,  the  sorrowful  and  old. 
Yield  to  the  gentle  blandishment  of  her 
Who    leaves    for   a   short   space   dark    Pluto's 

realm : 
Too  soon  the  gloomy  king  will  call  again 
His  ravished  bride,  the  fair  Persephone. 


[64] 


REGINA 

From    languorous    southland,   lo,    a    sovereign 

comes 
Robed  in  diaphanous,  effulgent  clouds. 
Crowned  by  the  sun,  jewelled  by  blazing  stars, 
Upon  her  swelling  breast  a  silver  moon. 

O  mighty  queen,  with  power  invincible, 
Thou  art  the  mistress  of  all  magic  arts. 
Sweeping  the  chords  of  passion  and  of  love 
That  fill  the  earth  with  wild,  entrancing  dreams ; 
At  thy  behest  from  rocky  fastness  high, 
Torrents    leap    forth    with    snowy,    streaming 

locks. 
And  avalanches  thunder  down  the  gorge. 
Voicing  thy  praises  while   they   devastate. 
For  joy  of  thee  embodied  harmonies 
Wing  through  the  fragrant  air  in  tuneful  flight ; 
Beneath  thy  feet  the  flowers  stir  and  wake 
To  offer  homage  with  their  bud  and  bloom, 
And  wandering  breezes  sob  themselves  to  sleep 
Upon  the  cradle  of  thy  throbbing  breast; 
Thy  dewy  mouth  is  stained  by  many  a  kiss 
Of  days  now  cold,  but  with  the  old-time  spell 
Invites  approach  of  rosy  hours  to  come. 
Fraught    with    fair    mornings    and    with    per- 
fumed eves. 
With  long,   still,  blossoming  days   and  honey- 
bees, 

[65] 


And  lilies  and  a  world  of  golden  light. 
Oh,  veil  the  splendor  of  those  glorious  eyes, 
Whose  burning  gaze  beyond  the  distant  peaks 
Would  seek  to  lure  the  tender,  unborn  hours 
From  out  the  womb  of  time  to  die  at  last 
Upon  the  poison  of  thy  fatal  lips. 
Dost  not  thy  prescient  gaze  behold  thy  bier 
O'erstrewn  with  leaves  crimsoned  by  thy  life- 
blood, 
And  hear  the  moaning  voices  of  the  wind 
Thy  dirge  intoning  as  thou  movest  on, 
Imperial,  triumphant  in  thy  charms? 
Loose  not  the  shining  ripples  of  thy  hair 
To  lie  in  dalliance  by  the  limpid  stream, 
For,  lo,  at  heel  the  savage  Winter  stalks. 
With   blasting  breath,   and  knout   of  ice   and 

snow. 
O'er  mountain,  over  plain,  through  woodland 

fair. 
Vengeful  and  merciless,  pursuing  thee; 
And  in  a  little  time,  bereft  of  strength. 
With  sobbing  cries  and  trailing  garments  rent, 
Forlorn  as  ever  beggar  in  his  rags, 
Shalt  thou,  beneath  his   scourgings,  meet  thy 
doom. 


[66] 


THE  DESERT 

As  far  as  eye  can  reach  the  desert  wide 

Stretches  its  awful  waste   of  shifting  sands 

Where    thirst    and    hunger,    grisly    phantoms, 
bide, 
To  seize  their  quarry  with  relentless  hands. 

In  scattered  clusters  thorny  cactus  grows, 
And  wandering  coyotes  with  stealthy  tread 

Prowl  round  the  hillocks  that  the  simoon  throws 
Above  the  whitened  bones  of  travellers  dead. 

The  mists  of  morning  in  a  thousand  hues 
Across  its  bosom  weave  their  filmy  lace ; 

The  splendor  of  the  moonlit  night  endues 
With  peaceful  loveliness  its  cruel  face. 

But  merciless  it  sleeps,  a  spirit  fell, 

And   dreams   and  dreams   while  evermore  it 
weaves 
In  wonderful  mirage  its  magic  spell. 

Betraying  unto  death  whoe'er  believes. 

Yet  on  those  arid  breasts  oases  cling. 

Where  by   the   cooling  well  palm  branches 
wave, 

A  vernal  sanctuary  offering 

Amid  the  desolation  of  the  grave. 


O  sorceress,  what  power  is  thine  that  lures? 

Despite  thy  terrors  and  thy  scorching  breath, 
Who  know  desire  thee  while  time  endures. 

Though  in  thy  wild  embraces  there  is  death. 


[68] 


AT  LA  JOLLA 

Stern  and  implacable  the  rocky  shore 

Stretches  its  length, 
Upon  it  mighty  surges  toss  and  roar 

In  awful  strength. 

Brown  garlands  torn  from  ocean  gardens  fair, 

Deep  'neath  the  waves. 
Float   tangled  with  bright   sea-shells  here  and 
there, — 

Flowers  strewn  on  graves. 

White  foaming  billows  leap  into  the  skies, 

High  heaven  to  gain ; 
Then  impotent  fall  back  with  bellowing  cries, 

Like  beasts  on  chain. 

As  far  as  eye  can  reach  the  battle  goes 

'Twixt  earth  and  sea. 
And  in  and  out  the  strong  tide  ebbs  and  flows 

Eternally. 


[69] 


NEWPORT  HARBOR 

The  damp  winds  blow 

From  fog-banks  low 
That  stretch  across  the  western  skies; 

Their  lips  of  mist 

The  waves  have  kissed, 
Responsive  but  in  plaintive  sighs. 

The  once  glad  sun 

His  race  has  run, 
Nor  casts  one  farewell  look  behind 

As  in  the  west 

He  sinks  to  rest 
With  vaporous  brow  and  vision  blind. 

The  pallid  moon  ! 

Lies  in  a  swoon 
Upon  the  tree-crowned  heights  afar; 

And  on  the  rim, 

With  life-light  dim. 
Just  breathes  one  flickering  little  star. 

A  slow  swung  bell 

Tolls  out  its  knell 
From  yonder  tower  tall  and  white; 

But  far  and  wide, 

Athwart  the  tide. 
The  kindled  lantern  cheers  the  night. 

[70] 


BY  THE  PACIFIC 

From  distant,  sunny  Orient  where 

Lie  hill-shrines  bowered  in  the  trees, 

Whence  tinkling  bells,  'mid  blossoms  fair, 

Send  forth  their  music  on  the  breeze; 

From  land  of  the  chrysanthemum 

The  crested  billows  swiftly  come. 

They  bring  the  incense  odors  sweet, 

The  boom  of  many  a  temple  gong. 
The  pattering  of  sandalled  feet 

That  roam  the  scented  paths  along; 
They  whisper  of  that  land  of  flowers 
Where  joy  and  gladness  mark  the  hours. 

On  rock-bound  coasts,   forbidding,   bleak. 

The  once  glad  waves  from  that  bright  zone 
Lay  on  the  shore  a  pallid  cheek 
And  sing  in  plaintive  monotone. 

Or  lift  white  hands  in  mournful  cries 
Of  grief  for  their  lost  paradise. 


[71] 


O  BIRD,  SWIFT  FLYING 

O  BIRD,  swift  flying 
From  out  the  rosy  west  where  light  is  dying, 
Say,  dost  thou  seek  amid  some  leafy  screen 
Thy  little  nest  all  canopied  with  green? 
Then  stay  thy  flight, 
For  empty  hangs  thy  home ;  thy  mate  has 

flown 
Far,  far  afield,  and  thou  art  here  alone. 
Bereft  to-night. 

Last  eve  while  calling 
Thy  sweet  good-night  amid  the  shadows  falling, 
When  save  wind-voices  from  the  distant  hill 
All  tired  nature  rested  calm  and  still, 
Thou  couldst  not  know 
On   surer,   swifter   wings    than   thine   flew 

sorrow. 
And  thou,  poor  bird,  upon  the  morrow 
Wouldst  mourning  go. 

Then  cease  thy  wailing 
And  searching  vain ;  thy  little  wings  are  failing. 
Dear  bird,  thou  seekest  but  an  empty  nest ; 
Oh,  come ;  forget  thine  anguish  on  my  breast, 
Soft  rustling  thing. 
For  he  who  set  thy  silver  tongue  a-swinging, 
Within  the  golden  bell  of  Summer  ringing, 
Bids  thee  to  sing. 

[72] 


THE  RETURN 

Across  the  azure  deeps  the  birds  are  soaring, 
Filling  the  golden  day  with  rapturous  notes; 

The  meadow-lark  and  mocking-bird  are  pouring 
Ecstatic  melody  from  quivering  throats. 

Clad  in  his  scarlet  mantle  captivating, 
The  cardinal  flutes  from  his  green  retreat ; 

Each  feathered  acolyte  is  celebrating 

A  woodland  mass  with  carols  clear  and  sweet. 

Cloud-arabesqued  and  radiant  with  glory. 
Spring  fair  cathedral  arches  of  the  skies; 

Below,  supreme  and  grand,  with  summits  hoary. 
In  solemn  pomp  the  pillared  mountains  rise. 

The  heart  of  nature  in  its  rhythmic  beating 

Wakens  a  yearning  close  akin  to  pain. 
Though   o'er   the   distant  hills,   with   fragrant 
greeting. 
Behold    the    flower-crowned    Summer    comes 
again. 


[73] 


POEMS  OF  SORROW 


IN  A  GARDEN 

In  fields  of  air  a  golden  sickle  shows ; 

The  last  pale  rose 
Of  sunset  fire  has  faded  into  grey, 

And  shadows  round  me  close. 

Steal  softly,  winds,  across  the  moaning  sea, 

And  bear  to  me 
Some  tidings  of  the  loved  and  lost  who  now 

Is  but  a  memory. 

Planted  by   Love's   own   hand  the   sweet  peas 
bloom. 

Veiled  in  the  gloom, 
Yet  token  of  their  presence  still  betray 

In  delicate  perfume. 

Their  fragrance  like  a  benediction  rare 

Pervades  the  air, 
A  tender  record  of  life's  ended  dream. 

Fostered  with  loving  care. 

The  gentle  heart  that  cherished  them  of  old. 

Pulseless  and  cold. 
Lies   on   the  self-same  breast  that  gives  them 
strength 

To  quicken  and  unfold. 


[77] 


Who  has  not  known  the  mockery  of  light, 

The  dreary  night 
Crowded  with  fretting  memories  of  joys 

Withered  by  death's  cold  blight. 

We  seek  wdth  anguished  cries,  but  all  in  vain. 

Surcease  from  pain ; 
And  then  —  some  morn  an  angel  shows  the  way, 

And  Love  is  found  again. 


[78] 


RESIGNATION 

Though   death  divorce  us,  yet  thou  shalt  be 
mine 
Sometime,    somewhere    in    happy    years    to 

come; 
Wherefore  I  bid  my  quivering  lips  be  dumb, 
Lest  by  complaint  I  question  God's  design. 

Even  now  I  feel  thy  love  of  days  long  past, — ■ 
Divine,  unselfish  from  its  very  birth, 
So  blessed  that  it  must  live  beyond  the  earth 

And  in  heaven's  courts  perfection  reach  at  last. 

I  hear  thy  voice  in  dreams  and,  weeping,  wake ; 
But   those   sweet  years   of  mother  love  and 

care. 
The   memory   of   which,    anguished,   I   must 
bear, 
I   would  not   barter   though  my   heart   should 
break. 

Nor  would  I  call  thee  back,  for  thou  art  blest 
Beyond  the  utmost  power  of  earth  to  give ; 
I  mourn  the  lonely  years  that  I  must  live, 

When  every  hour  my  loss  makes  manifest. 

Ofttimes  I  feel  if  I  could  break  the  spell. 
Thou  wouldst  return  to  me  and  dry  my  tears ; 
The  grave  is  but  the  portal  of  the  years 

Of  life  eternal  wherein  thou  dost  dwell. 
[79] 


O  Christ,  who  rose  o'er  death  triumphantly 
And    sittest    in    high    heaven,    a    monarch 

crowned. 
Comfort  and  lend  thine  aid  till  I  have  found 

Mine  own  who  may  return  no  more  to  me. 


[80] 


MY  PEARL 

One  hour  divine, — 
For  which  His  gracious  name  I  praise, — 
Set  in  the  golden  circle  of  my  days, 

A  pearl  was  mine. 

It  was  so  fair 
I  scarce  could  think  for  me  'twas  meant, 
That,  to  me,  undeserving.  He  had  sent 

A  joy  so  rare. 

My  gift  from  Heaven 
I  guarded  jealously  until  one  day 
The  envious  angels  sought  to  wile  away 

What  God  had  given. 

And  no  alarms 
Or  bitter  tears  could  aught  avail; 
They  took  my  treasure,  leaving  me  to  wail 

With  empty  arms. 

O  far-off  space. 
Wherein  my  lost  one  doth  abide. 
Open  but  once  your  starry  casements  wide, 

And  show  her  face. 

O  Christ,  the  Son, 
By  thy  fond  mother's  sacred  tears. 
Amid  the  glory  of  eternal  years 

Give  me  one  glimpse,  but  one. 
[81] 


AT  NIGHT 

O  GENTLE  Night,  whose  hand  beneficent 
Soothes  to  repose  and  calm  obhvion 
The  cruel  heartaches  that  attend  the  day 
And  with  their  smart  make  desolate  the  hours ! 
At   night   we   wander    through    the   groves    of 

sleep, 
Where  dreams  upon  the  branches  nest  and  sing 
Such  thrilling  songs  of  joyaunce,  hope  and  love. 
That  Time  and  Death  stay  listening  hand  in 

hand; 
Dear  old-time  faces  smile;  their  lips  caress. 
The  sweet  contentment  of  the  might-have-been 
We  drink  in  long,  deep,  satisfying  draughts, 
And  then, —  O  God,  we  wake  to  weep  again. 


[82] 


IN  HOSPITAL  AT  MANILA 

We  lie  outside  in  the  sunshine 
On  cots  and  on  lounging  chairs, 

And  a  few  on  canes  and  crutches 
Hobble  painfully  round  in  pairs. 

Many  a  window  is  open, 

O'er  many  the  shades  are  drawn ; 
We  know  what  that  means,  we  cripples 

Who  lie  in  the  sunshine  and  yawn. 

We  struggle  to  keep  up  courage 
By  gossip  and  jest  and  chafF, 

Though  the  laughter  a  joke  arouses 
Is  only  the  ghost  of  a  laugh. 

We  talk  of  battle  and  skirmish, 
But  rarely  of  home  and  friends, 

A  fellow  has  limitations 

And  knows  where  his  valor  ends. 

The  slender  shapes  of  the  palm-trees 
Silhouetted  against  the  blue, 

And  clumps  of  the  Spanish  bayonet. 
Rise  endlessly  on  our  view 

Till  the  glowing  tropic  landscape 
Is  torture,  and  sad  eyes  search 

With  a  yearning  past  all  telling 
For  the  sight  of  maple  or  birch. 
[83] 


Sitting  all  day  in  the  sunshine, 
Helpless  and  hopeless, —  O  God ! 

And  the  end  of  living  and  loving, — 
A  grave  under  foreign  sod! 


[84] 


HOPE'S  MESSENGER 

Within  my  heart  I  caged  a  bird, 

And  listening 
With  rapture,  every  hour  heard 

Its  wild  notes  ring. 

Through  summer  time  the  music  sweet 
Rose  clear  and  strong, 

Till  even  Time  stayed  flying  feet 
To  hear  its  song. 

It  warbled  of  the  coming  days 

Golden,  divine. 
Of  heart's  desire  and  flowery  ways 

That  should  be  mine. 

But  autumn  winds  blew  bleak  and  chill, 

And  rain  fell  fast; 
The  voice  grew  faint  and  fainter,  till 

It  ceased  at  last. 

And  when  the  sun  shone  out  once  more 

And  clouds  had  fled. 
Behold,  upon  its  prison  floor 

The  bird  lay  dead. 


[85] 


MY  SONG 

I  SANG  my  song  along  the  broad  highway, 

With  life  untried: 
Exultantly  rang  out  the  roundelay, 

And  echoed  wide. 

1  sang  my  song  along  the  broad  highway 

Amid  the   rain. 
And  strove  with  joyous  notes  the  livelong  day 

To  banish  pain. 

I  sang  my  song  along  the  broad  highway ; — 

The   night   has    come; 
My  bleeding  feet  have  wandered  far  astray, 

And  I  am  dumb. 


[86] 


GOOD-BYE,  OLD  YEAR 

Good-bye,  Old  Year,  the  hours  are  swiftly  fly- 
ing; 
The  night  has  come  at  last  and  thou  art  dying. 
Doth  no  repentance,  no  remorse  assail  thee, 
As  far  and  wide  the  wintry  winds  bewail  thee  ? 
Good-bye,  good-bye. 

Good-bye,  Old  Year;  thou  hast  been  most  un- 
kindly 
To  one  who  welcomed  thee  so  fondly,  blindly; 
Who  gave  thee  largess  as  a  royal  guest ; 
Whose  trust  thou  didst  betray  with  wild  un- 
rest. 
Good-bye,  good-bye. 

Good-bye,    Old   Year   who    came   in    clouds   of 

glory ; 
Thy  breath  upon  my  locks  has  left  them  hoary ; 
Thy  lips  were  chill  and  filled  me  with  alarms ; 
My  roses  faded  in  thy  clasping  arms. 
Good-bye,  good-bye. 

Good-bye,  Old  Year;  thy  cruel  hand,  relent- 
less, 

Robbed  memory  of  joy  and  made  it  scentless; 
The  wine  of  love  poured  from  a  shattered 
glass, 

[87] 


In  blood-red  drops  upon  a  mound  of  grass. 
Good-bye,  good-bye. 

Good-bye,  Old  Year.     And  now,  since  thou  must 

leave  me, 
Wouldst    sue   for   pardon   wherein    thou   didst 
grieve  me.'^ 
Restore  sweet  trust,  make  whole  the  broken 

heart. 
And  from  remembrance  pluck  the  poisoned 
dart ;  — 
No  answer  —  ruthless  Year ; 
Good-bye,  good-bye. 


[88] 


FINIS 

The  dance  is  over,  the  song  is  sung. 

I've  had  my  ha'pence;  what  matters  more? 
We  all  must  live  though  the  heart  be  wrung 
With  its  anguish  sore. 

On  sorrowful  eyes  the  world  will  frown, 

For  a  heavy  heart  makes  a  woeful  dance. 

And  a  stormy  wind  shakes  the  blossoms  down 

In  this  life  of  chance. 

I've  had  my  sunshine,  though  wan  and  cold; 

I  cast  a  shadow  upon  the  throng. 
The  day  has  vanished;  its  story  told. 
Will  the  night  be  long.?* 

I've  smiled  and  jested;  I  now  would  rest 

As  once  in  the  happy  days  gone  by. 
When  safe  from  harm,  on  my  mother's  breast 
I  was  wont  to  lie. 

The  darkness  gathers ;  the  mist  rolls  in ; 
The  dusk  is  peopled  with  fancies  wild. 
Reach,  ghostly  mother,  from  shadows  thin; 
Take  thy  weary  child. 


[89] 


DREAMS 

O  HEART,  'tis  vain 
To  seek  again 

The  sweet  rose-gardens  of  the  past. 
Too  late,  too  late, — 
The  ivory  gate 
'Gainst  thy  return  is  bolted  fast. 

And  never  more 
On  sea  or  shore 

That    rare,    effulgent    light    shall 
shine 
Whose  wondrous  rays, 
In  by-gone  days, 
Transfigured  all  with  glow  divine. 

Though  one  should  rise 
With  haunting  eyes, 

To    lure    thee    with    the    old-time 
charms, 
'Tis  but  a  dream 
Of  joy  supreme; 
Awake  to  tears  and  empty  arms. 


[90] 


PASS  ON,  O  DEATH 

Pass  on,  O  Death;  thy  destined  road  be  keep- 
ing, 
Nor  falter  in  the  pathway  thou  dost  tread. 
The  air  is  filled  with  sounds  of  bitter  weeping ; 
Thy    fearsome    passage    marked    by    flowers 
dead. 

The  bird-song  ceases ;  winds  no  more  are  call- 
ing 

Amid  the  rustling  leaves  their  message  sweet ; 
On  blighted  blooms  the  butterflies  are  falling; 

All  nature  cowers  'neath  thy  passing  feet. 

Away,  away,  nor  dare  molest  my  treasure, — 
The  one  frail  bud  unwithered  by  thy  breath ; 

Let  other,  richer  gardens  pay  thy  measure: 
Pass  on  thy  ruthless  way,  O  cruel  Death. 


[91] 


TURN  DOWN  HIS  EMPTY  GLASS 

"  Where    I    made    one  —  turn    down    an    empty    glass.'* 

The   Rubaiyat. 

Turn  down  his  empty  glass,  but  do  not  let 
Thy  thoughts  of  him  be  filled  with  wild  regret, 
Nor  for  one  hour  his  love  of  thee  forget. 

The  Master  who  has  wrought  us  out  of  clay, 
In  diverse  form  has  fashioned  us  each  day; 
Faultless  or  flawed,  His  hand  designed  alway. 

Some  for  His  sacred  altars  are  found  meet; 

Others  for  royal  usage  are  complete; 

And  some  —  lie  soiled  and  broken  in  the  street. 

He  knows  each  blemish  and  each  fate  has 
planned, 

For  honor  this,  that  in  dishonor  banned; 

The  wherefore  sometime  thou  mayst  under- 
stand. 

Inexorable  through  the  changing  years 

He  molds,  'mid  prayers  of  praise,  'mid  anguished 

tears, 
Till  at  the  last  is  ended  strife  and  fears. 

And  over  all  the  wonder  of  the  skies 

And  earth  with  bud  and  bloom,  though  quiet 

lies 
One  smirched  and  shattered,  Fate's  stem  sacri- 
fice. 

[92] 


E'en  shouldst  thou  call,  he  will  not  hear,  alas, 
Nor  of  the  guests  that  to  the  banquet  pass 
Shall  he  be  one. —  Turn  down  his  empty  glass. 


[93] 


POEMS  OF  TRAGEDY 


ANARCHY 

Hatched  in  the  fetid  slums,  I  stir  and  wake 
'Mid  my  incestuous  brood  to  seek  the  light. 
From  teeming  alleys,  courts  and  city  streets, 
With  sibilant  hiss  I  call  the  unemployed, 
The  thief,  the  harlot  and  the  murderer; 
From  haunts  and  dens  of  sin  unspeakable, 
Through  busy  market-place  I  take  my  way. 
Upon  my  slimy  trail  my  following. 
While  ruin,  devastation,  rapine  foul, 
Its  hydra-head  rears  high  above  the  throng. 
We  leave  upon  our  track  dishonored  homes. 
Children  defiled,  and  youths  degenerate; 
The  fair,  white,  virgin  bodies  of  young  maids. 
In    gross    embrace    deflowered,    then    trampled 

down. 
Our   battle   cry   rings   through   the   trembling 

world, 
"  Equality,  fraternity  for  all !  " 
Is  this  fraternity,  equality? 
Tortured  and  broken  from  the  mills  we  come. 
From  awful  Stygian  darkness  of  the  mines; 
Starving  and  maddened  by  our  impotence. 
Monsters  that  once  were  brothers,  we  arise. 
What  hand  has  set  us  free  to  work  our  will? 
Not  God  who  in  His  image  made  us  all. 
And  gave  the  earth  that  we  might  eat  and  live ; 
Not  God, —  but  man,  exultant  in  his  might. 
Obsessed  with  thirst  of  power  to  emulate 
[97] 


Divinity  and  make  all  worlds  his  own. 

Man, —  the  proud  conqueror  of  earth  and  air, 

The  lord  supreme  of  nature's  mysteries, — 

Strides  over  prostrate  bodies  of  his  serfs, 

Heedless  alike  of  curses  and  of  prayers ; 

The  strong,  the  weak,  the  innocent,  the  old, 

He  grinds  to  indistinguishable  pulp 

To  furnish  forth  his  Bacchanalian  feasts, 

Till,  turned  to  beasts,  raging  like  beasts  they 

rise, 
And  from  their  agony,  behold  /  am. 


[98] 


SISTERS 

Your  name  is  Mary,  mine  is  Magdalene ; 

You  tread  the  road  to  heaven  and  I  to  hell; 
But  why  your  life  is  pure  and  mine  unclean, 

The  Power  that  made  us  both  alone  can  tell. 

Our  spirits,  dwelling  in  primordial  flame. 
Together  burned  in  space,  nor  evil  knew. 

Until  by  unknown  force  we  hither  came, 
And  I  a  garret  found, —  a  palace,  you. 

The  same  hot  blood  flows  in  the  veins  of  each; 

In  both,  primeval  instincts  seethe  and  glow. 
Of  me  they  make  a  sinner  beyond  reach ; 

In    you    they    smoulder    'neath    convention's 
snow. 

Your  chaste,  young  breast  is  not  more  fair  than 
this, 

A  pillow  for  desire-sated  sleep; 
My  mouth  is  stained  by  many  a  wanton  kiss, 

While  yours  its  flower-like  purity  may  keep. 

O  Destiny,  thou  cruel  and  unjust. 

Why  to  the  helpless  issue  such  decrees, 

That  yield  some  lips  to  love  and  some  to  lust ; 
Give  some  the  wine  of  life  and  some  the  lees.'' 


[99] 


Within  my  awful  charnel-house  in  vain 
I  strive  'gainst  fetters  of  heredity. 

Shall  I  no  more  my  lost  estate  regain 

When  fleshly  gyves  my  blighted  soul  set  free? 


[100] 


BETRAYED  -^  «  - 

How  long  the  time  since  I  have  dared  Ito  pray 
I  know  not,  reckoning  by  hour  or  day, 

By  months  or  years ; 
But  I  have  sought  to  wash  my  guilt  away 

With  contrite  tears. 

Derided,   shamed,   I've   faced   the   cold  world's 

scorn, 
The  harlot's  name  upon  my  bosom  borne. 

By  man's  decree. 
While  my  betrayer,  all  his  vows  forsworn. 

Went  scathless,  free. 

O  heart  of  stone  'gainst  which  mine  own  heart 

beat, 
O  lying  lips  that,  passionful  and  sweet. 

Betrayed  by  kiss. 
Can  e'er  be  made  atonement  that  is  meet 

For  sin  like  this; 

Who,  pausing  for  a  moment  at  love's  shrine, 
Steals  from  the  crystal  chalice  sacred  wine, 

And  having  drained. 
Casts  down  with  ruthless  hand  the  cup  divine 

His  touch  has  stained? 


[101] 


When  Llicifer  in  human  guise  would  take 
I  Ul  S/^  ,**-A  hand  M  hazard  with  a  soul  for  stake, 
"^  '''''' '       '      -      ^}iQ  end's  the  same, 

And  weaklings,  lured  by  him  his  dice  to  shake, 
Must  lose  the  game. 


[102] 


THE  WANTON 

Life  met  me  smiling,  with  an  outstretched  hand 
That  held  bright  flowers  of  hope  and  joy  su- 
preme, 
And  said,  "  All  things  are  thine,  at  thy  com- 
mand." 
And  yet  her  promise  was  an  empty  dream; 
Footsore  and  weary,  beggared  and  a-cold, 
I  know,  O  Life,  thy  lies  are  manifold. 

I  drank  her  draught  and  pleasured  through  the 

land. 
In  garish  day  and  'neath  the  stars'  pale  gleam ; 
She  lured  me  on  until  at  last  I  stand 
Naked  and  shuddering  by  death's  icy  stream. 
O  Life,  thou  wanton,  heartless,  strong  and  bold, 
Within  thy  grasp  man's  soul  a  toy  dost  hold. 


[103] 


RACHEL 

The  time  is  long  ago  when  I  and  Grief 

Struck  hands  reluctantly  on  life's  highway, 
Since  then  for  me  has  shone  no  cheering  ray, 
And  of  my  fond  hopes  not  one  tiny  leaf 
Remains  to  tell  of  their  fruition  brief. 
With  tear-blind  eyes  I  wander  far  astray 
On  hopeless  quest  that  I  perchance  some  day 
May  overtake  relentless  Death,  the  thief. 

From  whose  dread  presence,  filled  with  wild 
alarms, 
I  fled  on  fear-winged  feet  that  summer 
tide. 
And  yet,  despite  my  tears,  despite  my 
pain, 
He  ravished  from  my  impotent,  fond  arms 
My  cherished  blossoms, —  I  no  bud  could 
hide; 
Therefore  I  wander,  seeking,  but  in 
vain. 


[104] 


THE  JESTER 

"All    the   world's    a   stage, 
And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players." 

With  haggard  face  smeared  o'er  in  red  and 
white, 
Behold  the  jester  leaps  upon  the  stage; 
The  public  greet  his  entrance  with  delight, 

As  by  his  quips  and  grins  he  earns  his  wage. 
Though  pain  and  anguish  claim  him  for  their 
own. 
Though  sorrow's  bitter  cup  his  lot  to  quaff, 
His  painted  lips  emit  no  sigh  or  moan ; 

He   jests    and   capers   that   the   world   may 
laugh. 

Wearied  at  last  of  heavy-hearted  jokes. 

They  yawn,  and  he  no  more  their  interest 
keeps, 
His   wildest   flights  nor  mirth  nor  smile  pro- 
vokes ; 
They    hiss, —  behind    his    paint    the    jester 
weeps. 
His  little  hour  has  passed  and  he  is  done, 

The  fickle  world  demands  a  new  surprise. 

Another  clown  their  mad  applause  has  won, 

And  in  his  garret,  starved,  the  jester  dies. 


[105] 


CONDEMNED 

What  of  the  night, 
O  watchman,  pacing  'neath  the  skies? 
Above  the  peaks  does  dawn  arise? 

Not  yet  'tis  light. 

The  heavens  are  dark. 
The  leaden  clouds  shut  out  the  stars; 
They  stretch  above  like  prison  bars. 

So  stern  and  stark. 

A  dead  moon  swings. 
No  light !     No  light,  and  we  must  die ! 
Yet  be  the  dawn  afar  or  nigh, 

Too  swift  its  wings. 

When  morning  fair 
Wakes  we  shall  lie  stretched  stiff  and  cold, 
Our  heads  low  pillowed  in  the  mold, 

Our  spirits  —  where  ? 


[106] 


PAYING  THE  PIPER 

Dancing  on  in  the  joyous  weather, 

Youths  and  maidens  with  quip  and  fling, 

Merrily  laughing,  trip  together 
To  the  Piper's  music  hearkening. 

What     though     feet    through     the    quagmire 
wander? 

Youth  is  the  time  to  revel  and  sing; 
Golden,  beautiful  days  to  squander. 

And  follow  the  Piper,  rioting. 

Fruit  of  knowledge  is  plucked  and  tasted. 
Souls  are  risked  for  the  savoring; 

Roses  of  joy  are  culled  and  wasted. 
While  after  the  Piper  hastening. 

Shadows  gather;  the  winds  are  wailing; 

Phantoms  of  evil  clasp  and  cling. 
Onward   still,   though   the  strength  be  failing. 

For  the  Piper  grim  is  summoning. 

Unto  the  soul  despair  has  spoken ; 

Courage  and  hope  long  since  took  wing; 
Tears  are  dried,  for  the  heart  is  broken, — 

And  now  for  the  Piper's  reckoning. 


[107] 


THE  LAND  OF  WOE 

Faint  and  dim  on  the  horizon, 
Amid  islands  bright  and  fair, 

Lies  a  land  of  tears  and  mourning 
Lies  a  land  of  wild  despair. 

The  same  waves  sing  on  its  beaches, 
The  same  heaven  o'er  it  smiles ; 

Round  it  perfumed  winds  are  blowing 
As  in  other  happier  isles. 

Yet  it  lies  accursed  and  lonely, 
And  its  palm  trees  in  the  wind 

Sway  and  whisper,  "  Ye  who  come  here 
Must  leave  every  hope  behind." 

Island  of  the  broken-hearted, 

Where  are  severed  ties  of  earth. 

E'en  the  angels  weep,  beholding. 
And  the  devils  shriek  with  mirth. 

Ye  who  pray  above  your  darlings 
And  their  dying  forms  caress. 

Would  ye  drain  the  cup  of  torment 
And  know  utter  hopelessness: 

Think  upon  that  woeful  country 
Where  the  hapless  go  to  die, — 

Man  abandoned,  God  forsaken, 
Leper   island,   Molokai! 
[108] 


THE  OPEN  GATE 

There  is  a  gate 
Narrow   and  low   with   lichen   overgrown ; 
Those  who  would  fain  pass  through  approach 
alone, 

In  royal  state. 

Black   shadows   creep 
About  the  portal  which  is  never  fast ; 
Oft  with  one  touch  ye  enter  and  at  last 

Know  why  ye  weep. 

The  road  thereto 
Anon  is  smooth  and  fair,  then  dour  and  dark, 
But  at  the  end  there  flickers  a  faint  spark 

The  gateway  through. 

None  comprehend 
This  side  the  secret  of  the  hidden  light. 
For  none  return  who  go  beyond  the  sight, 

Or  message  send. 

How  great  thy  need. 
However  blighted  hope  and  life  may  be, 
'Tis  thine  to  suffer  or  the  mystery 

To  dare  and  read. 

Naught  may  compel 
The  awful  question  or  the  fiery  test. 
But  all  who  writhe  in  agonized  unrest 

The  cure  know  well. 
[109] 


Then  fear  not  fate; 
When  destiny  is  hopeless,  hostage  cease 
To  misery;  take  thou  thine  own  release, — 

Pass  through  the  gate. 


[110] 


VANQUISHED 

A    CASTLE   stood 

Upon  the  borders  of  a  boundless  sea ; 

An  ancient  wood 
Embowered  and   concealed   it   cunningly, 
But  silvern  bells  at  eventide  betrayed 

Its  presence  tunefully. 

Eyes  starry  bright 
Gazed    through    the    muUioned    windows'    ivy 
screen 

When  soft  moonlight 
On  maze  of  tangled  blossoms  cast  its  sheen ; 
And  nightingales  without  a  thought  of  fear 

Built  nests  amid  the  green. 

Beyond,  afar, 
The  purple  silhouettes  of  mountains  rose; 

The  evening  star 
Above  their  peaks  hung  signals  of  repose; 
And  till  by  dawn  dispersed,  the  fleecy  clouds 

Flocked  round  the  rocky  close. 

So  sweet  Content 
With  gentle  Peace  reigned  in  this  fair  domain. 

And  Sorrow  went 
Aside  with  shrouded  face  her  path  of  pain. 
And   though   by   Death   companioned   step  by 
step. 

Sought  not  ingress  to  gain. 

[1111 


But  chill  winds  blew, 
Snow-laden,  till  the  flowers  drooped  and  died; 

The  wild  birds  flew 
Aff'righted  and  to  southlands  swift  wings  plied ; 
And  Doubt  with  icy  fingers  stood  without 

And  would  not  be  denied. 

Relentless  Fate 
Led  unveiled  Sorrow  with  her  haunted  eyes 

Through  bastioned  gate; 
Smote  down  defense  'mid  wild  despairing  cries. 
Till  Death  at  last,  a  conqueror  and  a  king. 

Held  Life  his  captive  prize. 

Now  stone  by  stone, 
White,  cruel  hands  of  surges  seaward  sweep 

A  shattered  throne 
Whose  sovereignty  the  spirit  could  not  keep; 
And  o'er  the  ruins,  desolate  and  stark. 

Mildew  and  darkness  creep. 


[112] 


RELIGIOUS  POEMS 


THE  CROSS  OF  RUBIDOUX 

The  golden  sunshine  gleams  o'er  mesas  wide, 
And  over  giant  peaks  that  on  each  side 

In  might  arise, 
Invading  e'en  the  kingdom  of  the  skies. 

From  rocky  heights  of  Rubidoux  there  falls 
The  shadow  of  a  Cross  that  voiceless  calls 

Till  man  must  heed 
Its  message  blest,  attuned  to  every  need. 
On  whomso'er  its  benison  doth  rest, 
Responsive  reverence  wakens  in  the  breast; 

The  present  vast 
May  not  eliminate  the  storied  past. 

In  blush  and  bloom   a   golden   orchard  glows, 
And  borne  on  wandering  breeze  from  cloistered 
rows, 
A  perfume  rare. 
Like  incense  from  an  altar,  fills  the  air. 

Junipero  Serra  and  the  fathers  sleep ; 

His  Mission,  best  beloved,  a  crumbling  heap. 

The  spoil  of  Time; 
And  o'er  the  ruined  walls  the  roses  climb. 
Dauntless    of    heart,    they    toiled    with    bitter 

stress 
To  make  a  garden  of  a  wilderness; 

From  great  to  least 
They  ministered,  as  friend,  physician,  priest. 
•        [115] 


And  when  the  dark  hour  came  and  strength  was 

spent, 
Their  prayer  for  human  succor  impotent, 

They  recked  not  loss. 
But  martyred,  dying,  clung  unto  the  Cross. 


1116] 


THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  FLOWERS 

O  FLOWERS  fair,  unto  the  world  God-given, 
Earth-stars  that  waken  from  a  dewy  sleep 

To  smile  upon  thy  glittering  twins  in  heaven 
That  watch  and  ward  in  wind-swept  spaces 
keep: 

Thy  fragrant  chalices  are  gently  swaying 
'Mid  woodland  aisles  and  on  the  garden  sod, 

In  perfumed  wordless  prayers  forever  saying 
Their  matins  and  their  vespers  unto  God. 

The  little  feathered  acolytes  are  singing 
In  thrilling  chorus  near  each  hidden  nest, 

On  bush  and  shrub  are  balmy  censers  swinging 
As  Nature  worships  at  divine  behest. 

From  bulb  and  seed  in  dark  mold  fructifying, 
Ye  rise  triumphantly  as  some  day  we 

Shall  fall  into  the  sleep  that  men  call  dying, 
And  waken  into  immortality. 

What  matter  if  ye  live  but  for  an  hour. 

Ye  did  not  bloom  in  vain  though  ye  must 
fade; 

Ye  are  the  symbol  of  His  love  and  power, 
The  sweet  sign  manual  His  hand  has  made. 


[117] 


EASTER  TIME 

'Tis  Easter  time:  sing,  birds,  your  roundelay; 
Sing,  all  ye  little  streams  along  the  way. 

'Tis  Easter  time: 
O  sighing  trees,  lament  no  more  your  shame ; 
The  Cross  man  hewed  from  ye  did  man  reclaim. 

'Tis  Easter  time:  O  sister  Magdalene, 
This  day  know  that  His  blood  has  washed  thee 
clean. 
'Tis  Easter  time: 
He  doth  upon  Himself  all  burdens  take, — 
Thy    base   desires,    thine   anguish,    thy    heart- 
break. 

'Tis  Easter  time :  Mary,  no  longer  weep ; 
The   Christ,   thy   Son,   has   wakened    from   his 
sleep. 
'Tis  Easter  time: 
O  sorrowing  mother,  ever  art  thou  blest, 
That   thou  hast   rocked  the  Godhead  on   thy 
breast. 

'Tis  Easter  time :  our  Lord  and  God  has  risen ; 
Sing,  contrite  hearts,  anointed  by  his  chrism. 

'Tis  Easter  time: 
Through  heaven  and  earth  let  the  wild  anthem 

ring, 
"  Behold,  upon  His  throne,  Jehovah,  King." 
[118] 


CHRIST'S  MOTHER 

He  was  a  baby  cradled  in  her  arms, 

Just  such  an  one  as  we  might  love  to-day, 

A  little  rosy  child  with  dimpled  charms, 
And  Mary  strove  to  keep  all  ill  away. 

She  bent  above  Him  in  ecstatic  thought 
Like  other  mothers,  be  time  old  or  new; 

And  when  His  eager  lips  her  bosom  sought, 
In  every   sip  her  very  soul  He  drew. 

And  then  —  upon  the  cross  'twixt  felons  twain 
She  saw  Him  nailed,  she  heard  His  last  faint 
breath, 

And  suffered  with  Him  every  bitter  pain. 
As  impotent  she  watched  His  cruel  death. 

O  Mary,  who   on  erring  world  ingrate 

Bestowed  such  gift,  thine   only   Son  divine. 

What  mortal  power  can  judge  or  estimate 
A  sacrifice  so  infinite  as  thine! 


[119] 


BETHLEHEM'S  BABE 

In  Bethlehem  a  babe  was  born ; 

(List  the  angels  calling!) 
A  manger  was  his  cradle  bed, 
And  straw  the  pillow  for  his  head. 

(Fast   the  tears  are  fallimg.) 

Swift  winging  through  the  gates  of  morn, 

(List    tlie   angels   calling!) 
Responsive   to  his   plaintive   cry, 
Bright   seraphs   sang  his  lullaby. 

(Fast   the  tears  are  fall'mg.) 

In  adoration  knelt  the  kine ; 

(List    the   angels   calling!) 
All  creatures  knew  their  Lord  supreme 
Save  those  blind  souls  he  would  redeem. 

(Fast   the  tears  are  fallimg.) 

O  little  hands  that  cling  and  twine! 

(List    the   angels  calling!) 
O  baby  brow  whereon  we  see 
The  sign  and  seal  of  sovereignty! 

(Fast   the  tears  are  falling.) 

The  shadow  of  the  cross  draws  near; 

(List    the   cmgels   calling!) 
The  way  to  Calvary  is  steep. 
Death's  murky  vapors   closer  creep. 

(Fast   the  tears  are  falling.) 
[120] 


Earth,  look  upon  thy  work  and  fear ! 

{List    the   angels  calling!) 
'Twixt  felons  twain  a  form  doth  swing, 
And  man  has  slain  his  God  and  King! 

(Fast   the  tears  are  falling.) 

Heavens'  portals  ope,  worlds  disappear 

(List  the  anthems  pealing!) 
The  Son  of  God,  man's  sacrifice. 
Behold,  enthroned  in  paradise ! 
Archangels  round  him  kneeling! 


[121] 


I  AM  A  WANDERER 

I  AM  a  wanderer  from  my  Father's  home; 
Far,  far  afield  my  erring  steps  have  strayed 
O'er  rugged  mountains,  height  on  height  ar- 
rayed ; 
Through  swamp  and  thicket  dense,  my  way 
have   made. 
Until  at  last  I  can  no  longer  roam. 

I  am  a  wanderer  from  my  Father's  home; 
Time  was,  long  since,  when  strong  and  un- 
afraid, 
I  woke  e'er  roses  of  the  dawn  could  fade, 
And  blithely  roamed  'mid  glad  birds'  sere- 
nade, 
Beneath  a  smiling  heaven's  arching  dome. 

1  am  a  wanderer  from  my  Father's  home; 

My  strength  is  spent ;  no  more  can  I  per- 
suade 

My  lagging  feet  through  forests'  dim  arcade. 

I  fear  the  haunted  gloom  and  dusky  shade 
Wherein  the  gleaming  torrents  roar  and  foam. 

I  am  a  wanderer  from  my  Father's  home; 
The   shadows   lengthen;   soon   will  night  in- 
vade 
My  path.     Thy  hand  alone  can  give  me  aid; 
O  walk  with  me  that  my  weak  steps  be  stayed ! 
I  am  a  wanderer  from  my  Father's  home. 
[1^2] 


WHEN  SHEPHERDS  WATCHED 

Through  that  wondrous  night  the  shepherds, 

watching, 
Saw  strange  signs  and  portents  far  above  them, 
While  the  changeful  winds  blew  hither,  thither, 
In  a  wild  unrest. 

'Mid  the  glittering,  radiant  lamps  of  heaven, 
Now  revealed,  now  screened  by  misty  curtain, 
One  alone  burned  brighter  than  all  others, — 
Star  of  Bethlehem. 

Marvelling,  the  shepherds  left,  forgotten. 
Timid  flocks  unguarded  from  night's  perils. 
Guided  by  the  light  until  it  led  them 
To  a  manger  bed. 

Quietly  the  Prince  of  Peace  was  lying 
In  His  humble  cradle  by  His  mother, 
While    the    sweet-breathed    kine    about    were 
kneeling, 
Worshipping  and  dumb. 

Everywhere  unseen  were  shining  legions. 
Wings  outspread,  their  Lord  and  King  adoring, 
Pouring  through  the  golden  gates  of  heaven 
In  an  endless  throng. 


[123] 


Virgin  Mary,  chosen  among  women, 
Mother  of  our  God,  though  great  thy  glory, 
Great  thy  pain.     The  cross  whereon  He  suf- 
fered, 
Thee,  too,  crucified. 


[124] 


YULETIDE 

The  holly  blushes   'neath  its  leaves, 
The  crackling  Yule  log  blazes   clear; 

Bedeck  the  hall  with  Christmas  wreaths, 
Fill  up  the  glass  with  Yuletide  cheer. 

The   wassail  bowl   is   brimming   o'er. 
And  Christmas  tapers  all  alight ; 

The  Christ   child   waits   beside  the   door 
For  leave  to  enter  in   to-night. 

The  world  without  in  frosty  chains 
Lies  bound  beneath  the  cold  star-glow, 

But  cheery  home-fires   through  the  panes 
Throw  gleams  across  the  drifting  snow. 

The  bells  ring  out  their  clangor  sweet, 

"  Peace  upon  earth,  to  man  good  will !  " 

Above  the  tumult  of  the  street 
Rise  the  insistent  voices  shrill. 

Bid  sorrow  for  a  time  depart, 
Forget  a  while  life's  discipline. 

Ope  wide  the  portals  of  the  heart. 
And  let  the  Christmas  mummers  in. 


[125] 


GUI  BONO 

Why  must  there  be, 
Dear  God,  this  groping  through  the  mists  and 

damps, 
Seeing  afar  the  happy  household  lamps, 

But  none  for  me? 

Why  should  I  toil 
'Mid  thorny  paths  beside  the  river's  brink, 
With  breaking  heart  and  tired  feet  that  sink 

In  mud  and  soil? 

Somfe  pathways  lie 
Sunny  and  beautiful  by  tranquil  streams. 
Some  weary  eyes  close  fast  in  tearless  dreams; 

Lord,  why  not  I? 

May  I  not  rest 
One  moment  upon  grassy  knoll  in  shade 
Of  some  old  oak  where  little  birds  have  made 

A  hidden  nest? 

When  shadows  fall 
And   pale   stars    glimmer   faintly   through   the 

night. 
Strange  evil  things  from  thickets  dense  affright 

With  wail  and  call: 


[126] 


Then  could  1  hear 
But  once  Thy  voice,  'twould  ease  my  path  of 

pain ; 
Thy  presence  would  my  ebbing  strength  sus- 
tain, 
And  banish  fear. 

Ofttimes  I  seem, 
Asleep,  to  rest  within  Thy  sheltering  arms ; 
At  dawn  I  wake  to  find  with  wild  alarms 

'Tis  but  a  dream. 

Yet  shouldst  thou  still 
Decree  my  spirit's  growth  by  bitter  loss. 
Grant  me  the  trust  to  humbly  kiss  the  Cross, 

And  do  Thy  will. 


[127] 


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